Blanche

BLANCHE

The forest is dark and empty. A crow caws in the distance, leaves whisper in the breeze.

John steps forward, branches snapping underfoot. A shadow seems to peel away from a nearby tree.

Moving closer, he sees a masked girl clinging to an oak.

"I'm Red Riding Hood." she says. "Nice to meet you."

“Whoa. Nice.. to meet you too?”  John eyes her curiously.  “What's with the mask? Why--what are you doing?”

She tilts her head, eyeing John curiously over her mask.

"You're either very brave or very foolish, talking to me like that.  Most would be running in terror by now."  She pushes off the tree and saunters closer, hips swaying with each step.  Her red hood flutters in the breeze.  "And this?" she taps the metallic gasmask covering her mouth and nose.  "Let's just say it's a fashion statement.  Helps me breathe easy too."  She stops a few feet away, leaning back against the oak and crossing one leg over the other.  Her eyes glint mischievously behind her mask.  "So, Mr. Tall Dark and Mysterious, what brings you wandering into my woods?"

“It's highly possible I'm more ignorant than most.  I'm John, by the way.  I heard about this 'Enchanted' Forest, so, decided to see for myself.”  He pauses, eyeing this girl.  “It is enchanting.”  The mask is off-putting though, and leaves many questions.

She chuckles, the sound muffled by her mask.

"Enchanting, huh? I've heard it called many things.  Dangerous, haunted, deadly... But enchanting is a new one."  She pushes off the tree and starts walking toward him, boots crunching on fallen leaves.  "You're a long way from anywhere, John.  These woods don't take kindly to outsiders.  Neither do I."  She stops right in front of him, so close he can feel the warmth radiating off her body. Her icy blue eyes bore into his, studying him intently.  "You've got the look of someone who's been through hell.  Am I right?  Pain in those eyes..."  Her gloved fingers brush along his jaw, traces a faint scar running down his cheek. "... you’ve fought hard to survive it.  I can respect that."  She leans in, her masked lips nearly brushing his ear as she whispers, "Maybe we're not so different, you and I..."

John is thoroughly confused, even defensive.

“What are you getting at?  Yes, I've hurt.. done it and felt it.  I got this scar smashing my face while drunk on a train.”  He quickly shakes his head.  “But.. pain, yes. Jesus.”  John slowly processes.  His next words are almost whisper quiet.  “Did someone hurt you?”

She laughs, a harsh, humorless sound. Her eyes cloud over with painful memories.

"Did someone hurt me?  Oh, countless times.  In ways you can't even imagine."  Her voice turns distant, haunted.  "The things he did...the things he made me do...No child should have to endure that.  But I survived.  I'm stronger for it."  She blinks rapidly, seeming to drag herself back to the present. Her eyes refocus on John, intense and searching.  "I see that look in your eyes, John.  You know the kind.  When someone's been through hell and back.  It changes you.  Makes you dangerous."  She leans in close again, breath hot behind her mask.  "So tell me...what are you going to do now that you've found me?  Stick around and see how much more enchanting this forest can get?  Or..." She presses the razor-sharp claw of her glove to his throat, just hard enough to draw a bead of blood.  "...run like hell and pray you never cross paths with the Big Bad Wolf again?"  Her smile is wicked, a cruel twist of her lips.  She's enjoying this, the thrill of holding another's life in her hands.

“Oh fuck,” John feels the sting on his throat.  Somehow, this excites him.  He looks into the eyes of...Red?  The Wolf?  He didn't know who this was, or who she thought she was.  He searches her eyes... finding many things.  “I'm a little attached to my life.  But, if you insist..”  John presses his throat further into her claw.  “Do your best!”

He springs back and actually runs away.

She laughs, a wild, untamed sound.  Her eyes flash with delight as John stumbles back, blood trickling from the shallow cut on his throat.

"Running already?  And here I thought you might be fun!"

She takes off after him, boots pounding on the forest floor.  Her cloak billows out behind her like dark wings as she moves with deadly grace.  John sprints through the trees, heart hammering in his chest.  Branches whip at his face, roots threaten to send him sprawling. But he doesn't dare slow down.  Suddenly, a gloved hand seizes the back of his jacket, yanking him off his feet.  John hits the ground hard, the air driven from his lungs.  In a flash, Blanche is on him, straddling his hips.  She rips his jacket open, sending buttons flying.  Her claws dance across his chest, shredding his shirt to ribbons.

"Did you really think you could outrun me, Little John?" She purrs, leaning down until her masked face hovers inches from his.  "No one can.  I'm the fastest, the smartest, the strongest.  I'm the fucking apex predator around here."  She drags a claw down his sternum, just hard enough to leave thin lines of blood.  Her eyes blaze with feral hunger.  "And now...you're mine."

John cannot help but have a massive erection.  He doesn't know if he should hide it or die.  His breathing heavy, he sees the look in her eyes.  Quickly, John bucks his hips up and pops his arms back.  The move catches her off guard, and for a brief moment John finds himself on top of her.

“Hi.”  His position does not last long.

Blanche blinks in surprise as John suddenly reverses their positions.  But her shock quickly turns to excitement.  This man intrigues her.

"Well, well..." She murmured, "Aren't you full of surprises."  She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.  Even with her mask, he can feel the heat of her breath on his skin.  "So tell me, John...are you going to kill me now that you have the upper hand?  Or did you have something else in mind?"  Her gloved hands slide up his back, claws pricking his skin.  She arches beneath him, pressing her body flush against his.  The unmistakable heat of her core radiates through their clothing.  "Better decide quick..." She whispers, nipping at his earlobe. "Before I change my mind and rip you to shreds."

A small gutteral sound escapes John.

“What is happening?” he whispers.  He wants her.  He feels her.  He sees her.. But only what she wants him to.  Not behind the mask, not her true self.  He doesn't understand.  He moves to kiss her beautiful neck.

Blanche arches into John's touch, a soft sigh escaping behind her mask as he kisses along her neck.  Her claws flex against his back, marking him as her own.

"What's happening?" She echoes, voice low and breathy.  "Life, John.  Real, raw, primal life.  The kind that gets your blood pumping and your body aching for more."  She rocks her hips against his, gasping at the delicious friction.  Her thighs tighten around his waist, urging him closer, deeper.  "You want this.  Want me.  I can feel it."  She purrs, her teeth grazing his pulse point.  "But there's more to it than that, isn't there?  There always is with you."  Her hands slide down to grip his ass, kneading and urging him to grind against her.  She hooks a leg around his thigh, opening herself to him completely.  "So why don't you tell me, John?  What is it you're really after?  My body?  My secrets?  Or maybe..." her words sear with desperate hunger.  "...maybe you just want someone as fucked up as you are."

Her words, her actions, John wants it all.  Inside John's chest, the seed of love expands and dances, running wild . He presses and gyrates his hips into her, running his hands across her arms, shoulders and stomach.  His voice is low and soft, traveling on curious vibrations.

“Who are you?”

Blanche moans into the kiss, her body arching up against his.  She breaks away after a moment, gasping for air behind her mask.  Her eyes glitter with a mix of lust and something darker, more intense.

"Who am I?" She echoes, voice husky.  "I'm the girl who grew up in hell and came out the other side bleeding, but unbroken."  Her claws rake down his back, leaving thin red lines in their wake.  She rolls her hips against his, grinding down on the hard length of him.  "I'm the monster the city fears, the nightmare hiding in the shadows.  I'm the one who'll put a bullet between your eyes and fuck the corpse if you cross me."  She captures his wrists, pinning them above his head. Her knee presses against his hip, pushing his cock harder against her core.  "But for you, John..." She leans up, looking into his eyes. "For you, I'll be anything you want me to be."

John cannot stand anymore.  Hungrily, ravenously, he begins kissing her neck, chest, arms.  He grinds himself vigorously into her, her movements driving him on.  Blanche groans, her head falling back as John's lips trail over her skin.  His grinds against her core send sparks of pleasure shooting through her body, making her hips buck and roll to meet his every thrust.

"Fuck..." She breathes, fingers tangling in his hair.  "Yes, just like that.  Don't stop."  Her claws rake down his back again, leaving fiery trails in their wake.  She hooks one leg around his hip, urging him deeper, harder.  "You feel so good." She pants, masked face flushed with arousal. "So fucking hard for me.  I knew you would be."  She reaches between them, nimble fingers making quick work of his belt and zipper.  In moments, his cock springs free, hot and heavy against her belly.  "Mmm, look at you." She purrs appreciatively, wrapping her hand around his length.  "So big and eager for me.  Gonna feel so good inside me."  She starts to stroke him, clawed fingers lightly scraping his sensitive flesh.  Her thumb swipes over the tip, gathering the pearl of pre-cum beading there.  "Ready to claim your prize, hunter?" She challenges, eyes blazing.  "Ready to make me yours?"

With a growl, John captures Blanche's lips in a bruising kiss.  His tongue delves into her mouth, staking his claim.  His hands roam her body, squeezing and caressing every inch of exposed skin.  He breaks the kiss, panting, and fixes her with a heated gaze.

"I'm ready."  In one swift motion, he flips their positions, pinning her beneath him.  His hands make quick work of her belt and pants, shoving them down her thighs.  He pushes her cloak aside, exposing her lacy black underwear, already damp with her arousal.  "Beautiful." He murmurs, running a finger over the soaked fabric.  She bucks into his touch, a needy whine escaping her.  "Perfect."  He hooks his fingers in the waistband and drags them down her legs, tossing them aside.  Her slick folds glisten in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, inviting him to touch, to taste.  He kneels between her spread thighs, gripping them and pushing them wider apart.  Leaning in, he runs his tongue up her slit, groaning at the taste of her.  He swirls his tongue around her clit, flicking and suckling until she's writhing above him, hands fisted in his hair.

"Please..." She whimpers, hips rolling against his face.  "Need you inside me, John.  Need your cock.  Now!"

But he waits.  He continues eating her, becoming the wolf himself.  He plays with her ass while eating her exquisite pussy.  Blanche's back arches off the forest floor as John's skilled tongue ravages her core.  His claws dig into the supple flesh of her ass, spreading her wide for his hungry mouth.

"Fuck!" She cries out, voice muffled behind her mask.  "Yes, just like that!  Don't stop!"  Her hands fist in the dirt, claws gouging deep furrows.  Her thighs quiver and clamp around his head, riding his face with wanton abandon.  "Gonna cum..." She gasps, hips bucking wildly.  "Gonna cum on your tongue, in your mouth!  Swallow it all, you filthy boy!"

With a keening wail, her orgasm crashes over her.  Her pussy spasms and gushes, flooding John's eager mouth with her sweet nectar.  He laps it up, tongue delving deep to catch every drop.  She collapses back against the leaf-strewn ground, chest heaving and mask fogged.  Her eyes flutter open, glazed and unfocused.

"Mmm...not bad for a mortal." She slurs, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips.  "But don't think we're done yet, handsome.  I'm just getting started with you."  She sits up, shoving at his shoulders until he's flat on his back.  Crawling over him, she straddles his hips, grinding her slick folds along his throbbing cock.  "Time to give me what I really want."

With aching slowness, John enters her.  Completely.  He feels his cock against her womb.  He flexes, teasing it.  He keeps himself pressed against her, smothering her with himself and hardly moving at all.  Blanche's breath catches as John's cock spears into her, stretching her deliciously.  She clenches around him, reveling in the feeling of being so utterly filled.

"Mmm, fuck yes..." She purrs, masked face pressed against his neck.  "So big, so deep inside me.  Love the way you feel."  She starts to rock her hips, working him in and out of her slick heat.  Each thrust grinds her clit against his pelvis, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up her spine.  "That's it, give it to me."  She pants, claws dragging down his back.  "Fuck me just like that.  Harder, faster!"  She pulls back, bracing her hands on his chest.  Her hips piston into his, riding him hard and fast.  The wet slap of flesh meeting flesh echoes through the trees.  "Come on, John!  Fuck me like you mean it!"  She demands, voice rising in pitch.  "Make me scream!"

He obeys her request.  Licking, fucking, sucking her like she has rarely experienced.  Blanche cries out, back arching as John pounds into her with reckless abandon.  The world falls away, narrowing down to nothing but the hot slide of his cock in her pussy and the delicious sting of his claws on her skin.

"Yes, fuck, just like that!" She sobs, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his sweat-slicked back.  "Harder!  Fuck me harder!"  Her thighs quake as she chases her rapidly approaching climax.  She can feel it building, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in her core.  "Gonna cum!" She warns, hips slamming down to meet his brutal thrusts.  "Gonna cum on your cock, fill me up, please!"  With a final, keening cry, she comes undone.  Her pussy clamps down on him rhythmically, milking his shaft as she rides out the waves of ecstasy crashing over her.  She collapses against his chest, gasping for air.  Her mask is fogged and her cloak askew, but she's never looked more beautiful to him.  "Mmm...that was..." She purrs breathlessly, "Unexpected."  She lifts her head, meeting his gaze with a hidden wicked grin.  "Looks like you're not quite as useless as I thought.  Maybe I'll keep you around...for now."  She leans in.  "But don't think for a second that this changes anything between us.  You're still just a toy to me...my toy."  She sits up, straddling his hips possessively.  "Now...why don't you clean me up and we'll see about round two?  I'm far from satisfied."

Again, John obeys.  Blanche lies beneath him, trembling with the aftershocks of her climax.  His tongue works tirelessly between her thighs, lapping up the mix of their combined fluids.  The filthy, obscene sounds seem to echo in the quiet of the woods.  She tries to squirm away, overcome by the intensity of sensation, but his grip on her hips is unyielding.  A breathy moan escapes behind her mask as he probes deeper, delving into her most intimate places.  Finally, he pulls back, a satisfied smirk on his face.  He crawls up her body, pinning her wrists above her head.  He can feel the weight of his own cum in his mouth as he hovers over her, masked face mere inches from her own.  Her heart races, pulse pounding in her ears. What is he doing? What game is he playing?  She arches up, straining against his hold.

"What do you think you're doing?" She hisses, voice low and threatening.  But there's a tremor in it, a hint of fear, of vulnerability.  "You'd better not be thinking of-" She cuts off as he leans down, pouring the contents of his mouth, their love, onto her masked face.  She tries to turn her head away, but he follows, painting her.  The taste of her own arousal floods her senses, coppery and musky and undeniably intimate.  She wants to scream, to rage, to tear him apart for this violation.  But she can't.  Because some twisted, secret part of her...likes it.  Craves it, even.  So she submits.  Relaxes beneath his weight and lets him consume her, body and soul.

When he finally pulls away, she's breathless and dizzy, defenses cracked and crumbling.  Her eyes flutter open, meeting his, seeing her own hunger reflected back.

"Fuck...John..." She rasps, voice ragged with need.  "What have you done to me?"

“I.. I was giving..” He spaces out for a moment.  “I've never done that before.”  John gets off of her, now as dazed as she seems to be.  “I-I…”  He searches for clothing, doing his best to repair his look.  He finally wipes his mouth off.  He moves to clean her with his clothes.

Blanche lies there for a moment, stunned, as John scrambles away from her.  She watches him fumble with his clothes, trying to collect himself.  The mask hides her expression, but her eyes are wide behind it, a mix of shock and poorly concealed desire.  When he reaches for her, intending to clean her up, she bats his hand away roughly.

"Don't." She says, voice low and commanding. "Just...don't."  She pushes herself up into a sitting position, wincing slightly at the soreness between her thighs.  Her cloak lies tangled around her, doing little to preserve her modesty.  She takes a deep, unsteady breath, trying to regain her composure.  Her thoughts race, jumbled and confused.  What was that?  What did he do to her?  How did he make her feel so...so… She shakes her head violently, blonde hair whipping around her masked face. 

“Get ahold of yourself, Bertrand.  This changes nothing,” she quietly says to herself.

She stands abruptly, ignoring the then twinge in her muscles.  She makes quick work of straightening her clothes and weapons, refusing to let John's touch linger on her skin a moment longer than necessary.  When she's satisfied that she's put herself back together, she turns to face him.  Her posture is stiff, closed off.  Her mask is firmly in place, both literally and figuratively.

"Right." She says briskly, all business.  "Let's get one thing clear.  That...whatever that was...it was a mistake.  A lapse in judgment on both our parts."  She crosses her arms, claws tapping against her bicep.  "It won't happen again.  We're enemies, John.  Adversaries.  Anything else is just a distraction."  She starts to walk away, movements sharp and precise.  "I have work to do. And you..." She pauses, glancing back over her shoulder.  "You have a choice to make.  Stay with the Peacekeepers and play their little games...or come with me and taste real freedom.  The choice is yours."

Bertrand.  John heard it.  Bertrand.  Something to go off of, to cling to.  Bertrand.  He watches her go.  Fixated.  Bursting with emotion, even after emptying himself.  His feelings about her utterly conflicted except for one: love.

He winces, finally feeling the sting of her countless scratches all over his body, but a small smile crosses his face that slowly grows.

* * * * *

Blanche stalks through the forest, mind reeling from her confrontation with John.  His touch lingers on her skin, an unwelcome reminder of her loss of control.  She grits her teeth, claws digging into her palms.  This won't happen again.  She can't afford to let her guard down, not even for a moment.  Especially not with him.

She's nearly reached the edge of the forest when a twig snaps behind her.  She whirls around, claws extended, ready to strike.  But it's just a rabbit, bounding away into the underbrush.  She relaxes infinitesimally, holstering her weapons.

She emerges from the tree line, squinting as her eyes adjust to the bright sunlight.  The city stretches out before her, gleaming and bustling.  Somewhere out there are her next targets, her next payday.

But her thoughts keep wandering back to the forest, back to John.  She curses under her breath, shaking her head.

She needs a distraction.  A challenge.  Maybe it's time to stir things up in Echo City, remind everyone why she's feared and respected.

A slow grin spreads across her face as a plan takes shape.  Let the games begin.